Chapter 839: Slow
"If you put it that way, then it's even more reason not to get involved." Both of them couldn't help but think.
Since Bai Mo's hints were so obvious, they could basically confirm that he was definitely behind Black Magic, and Ke Mo was just a silly boy who happened to be in the right place at the right time.
"This matter is of great importance. We will discuss the Black Magic issue with the other Electors at the Empire Council." Ye Dexian didn't refuse directly but passed the buck.
"If I told you that the emergence of Black Magic itself truly has nothing to do with my main body, would you believe me?" Bai Mo suddenly asked.
"..."
After leaving that rhetorical question, this wisp of Bai Mo's consciousness slowly began to dissipate into the air.
...
"Do you believe him?" After casually laying down dozens of detection spells and confirming there was no residual consciousness of Bai Mo nearby, Xi Liu, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke.
"From my understanding of him, he disdains outright lying, but his lies often manifest as presenting only half-truths."
"Believe it or not, I will definitely not touch Black Magic," Xi Liu said.
"I will submit all of today's information to the Empire Council for discussion."
"Are you just going to let Wei Ni Si killing your avatar with Black Magic slide?"
"When she takes that step, I will settle the final score." Ye Dexian replied calmly.
"Why do you think they just can't understand the painstaking efforts of us? With the Empire's current weak cosmic navigation technology, it still took over a hundred years to fly to this nearest material-rich Proxima Centauri system."
"For over a hundred years, apart from a few newly discovered minor worlds, the vast Empire had no material gains whatsoever; it was constantly depleting its reserves. Only upon arriving at the Proxima Centauri system did new supplies become available."
"If, like before, we allowed cultivators to advance freely, all sorts of heavenly and earthly spiritual treasures would be rapidly depleted, leading to an even greater catastrophe."
"In their eyes, we are merely those who obstruct the Dao for our own selfish ends; how could they possibly listen?"
"At the current rate of development, in eighty-three years, most of the material in the Proxima Centauri system will have been fully mined. However, the next star system, at our fleet's speed, would take nearly three hundred years to reach."
"Even if we calculate based on the current number of superhumans, developing the entire Proxima Centauri system's spiritual material reserves would barely meet four hundred years of demand. If there were more cultivators, we wouldn't even have enough resource reserves to fly to the next star system."
...
They, on the other hand, truly felt that they weren't simply suppressing newcomers for their own selfish desires; it was just that the universe was despairingly vast, and the Empire's interstellar navigation technology hadn't kept up.
Feeding the numerous commoners wasn't difficult, but there was a lack of channels to acquire the many cultivation resources and heavenly and earthly treasures. Therefore, they could only artificially limit the number of advanced cultivators to protect the rights of existing cultivators.
"We are still too slow." Xi Liu couldn't help but sigh with emotion.
The next target star system was nearly thirty light-years away from the Proxima Centauri system; even at light speed, it would require over thirty years of non-stop flight.
And the Empire's current technology, at best, could only support the main fleet moving at one-tenth the speed of light.
One-tenth the speed of light, viewed in the current world, was an incomprehensibly super-fast speed, but from a cosmic perspective, it was still as slow as a crawling turtle.
A distance of thirty light-years meant the Empire's fleet would need to fly non-stop for three hundred years—the span of ten generations of mortals.
Even for a Six-tier cultivator with a lifespan of nearly three thousand years, it meant another tenth of their life would be consumed by the arduous journey.
As for mortals, it would be a relay of lives spanning several generations. An infant born at the time of departure would likely see only their great-great-grandson, their grandson's grandson, have even a sliver of hope of reaching the destination.
Unfortunately, there was no other way. Although the Empire's Academy of Sciences had striven for over three hundred years, they were still very far from achieving faster-than-light travel technology.
As long as they hadn't surpassed the speed of light, they could only continue with the existing methods and system.
Trillions of people, giving birth to tens of billions of hungry cultivators, who would consume all cultivation resources along the way, then continue to the next spiritual material-rich lands.
In fact, the technology for artificially cultivating mid-to-high-grade spiritual flowers and herbs, or industrially synthesizing various spiritual materials, was already quite mature. However, it generally took a long time, often hundreds of years to yield results in environments lacking "innate spirit qi."
For the rapidly expanding ranks of cultivators, this was undoubtedly a case of distant water unable to quench a nearby thirst.
The acquisition cycle for mid-to-high-end resources was too long, and there were too many monks and too little gruel. This was the fundamental reason why many True Immortals secretly supported limiting newcomers.
They didn't want to see themselves, as high-level cultivators of the ruling class, also forced to fight tooth and nail against each other in a fierce struggle for survival.
On the contrary, ordinary people who couldn't cultivate, under the Empire's current technological level, could still live a decent life even if they spent their entire lives on the lead ship, without having to worry constantly like the superhumans.
The Empire inherited a special policy from the Earth era, from the Huaxia Federation—unconditional fixed payments every month.
Any Empire citizen with an ID would receive an income of one thousand Empire Yuan in their terminal account each month, intended to cover the most basic necessities of life.
Artificially produced meat and synthetic starches from fully industrialized production, as well as many daily necessities already produced through full automation, were extremely cheap. With a monthly living allowance of one thousand Empire Yuan per person, survival was absolutely not a problem.
As for the cost of issuing money... for many years, most prices seemed to have remained unchanged. After all, a thousand yuan in the hands of the poor would be spent entirely on various necessities before it even had a chance to warm up, returning to the various shops for clothing, food, housing, and transportation.
Tracing back to their origins, these various shops could almost all be linked to the backgrounds of certain influential figures.
It was precisely because they understood this point that the Empire was tireless in pursuing such a money-distribution policy.
Before it was issued, the money belonged to the Empire's treasury. After it was issued, the profits from consumption went into their own pockets.
...
"Reporting, Your Majesty the Empress, the Speaker of the Empire Council is about to convene a meeting." Inside the Palace of No Worries, a female official hurried from the communication room.
"I understand. You may withdraw."
"Lord Ke Mo, will you attend the meeting?"
"No."
If it were the Ke Mo of yesterday, upon hearing such words, he might well have cheerfully disguised himself as the Empress's adjutant and walked into the council hall together with her.
But the current him, as soon as he thought about their relationship being one of mutual exploitation, felt a deep-seated discomfort even just approaching her.. RAN + obes
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